Hog Park
by Neifirst
Summary: COMPLETED  Hogwarts. The famous school has endured a lot in its long lifetime, but is it ready for a little boy called Eric Cartman? Crossover with South Park.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Cartman and company go to Hogwarts.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or South Park.

**Prologue**

**Stark's Pond, July 31st, 14:21**

Today was the best day of Eric Cartman's life. Many days of his life were good -like the day when he found a lost candybar under the couch- but this day was just awesome. Today, at ten years of age, he could finally prove that he was better than Kyle. He already knew that of course, but today he could finally rub the sweet, sweet truth in the little Jew's face. The fat boy narrowed his eyes and looked for his prey among the playing and swimming kids -there! A boy with frizzy red hair was sitting on the beach, accompagnied by the collateral damage that went by the names of Stan and Kenny.

"Target located; prepare for annihilation," Cartman grinned evilly as he approached them.

"Hi guys, how are you doing today?" whined Eric, "Especially you Kyle, are you enjoying yourself today?"

"Fine, I guess. Why?"

"No reason. So, this day has been pretty good for you, right? Well, that's good. I'm glad for you. No, no, don't look so surprised, I mean it! After all, even lesser lifeforms such as yourself deserve some happiness."

The words were coated in a thick layer of sugar. Kyle sighed deeply.

"Cartman, if this is a jibe at me being a Jew again, then-"

"Oh no Kyle, not at all -although that certainly is another reason for your inferiority, now that you mention it… No Kyle, the real reason why you are inferior to me is because I, Eric Cartman, am a wizard."

Silence followed. Kyle and Kenny exchanged an annoyed glance. Stan threw a small pebble into the pond. Eric waited a moment for the words to sink in, and then continued:

"Yes, it's true. I am a wizard. I master the ancient mystic powers, and bend them to my will. I am powerful, far moreso than you'll ever be, jew. I am a wizard...and most importantly; you are not. Nanananana...na! Hahahahaha...ha!" Cartman danced around Kyle, pointing and laughing all the while. Kyle, Stan and Kenny rolled their eyes.

Cartman fell to his knees and praised the heavens.

"Oh thank you lord, thank you for this blessed day!"

"Cartman..."

"Thank you for finally giving me the irrefutable proof that I'm better than Kyle Brovlovski! O Lord, I love you!"

"Cartman, I'm a wizard too."

"What? No- No you're not! Don't lie to me Kyle! Lying is a crime in the wizarding world, it's a capital offense! Take it back and say you´re not a wizard!"

"It's true Cartman; Kyle's a wizard. Kenny is one too," Stan said flatly.

"..."

"Cartman..."

"Is he still breathing?"

"Cartman?"

Cartman, palefaced and wide-eyed, said nothing. He stayed frozen on the spot for a while, and then he got up and walked away. He aimlessy wandered around the pool for a while before leaving in the direction of his house, leaving a concerned Kyle, Kenny and Stan behind.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know. This is a big disappointment for him. Probably the biggest he has ever had in his life - including the time he found out the rumors of a Chucky Cheese opening in town were fake." Stan was still staring at the spot where Cartman disappeared from his view.

"Mmrhmmph mmhrmmph?" Kenny asked, his face covered with a thick orange shawl. The other kids laughed at him for wearing a shawl in the middle of summer, but he had gotten a nasty cold and his mom would kill him if he didn't wear his shawl.

"Yes Kenny, I'm afraid this means that Cartman will go to Hogwarts too."


	2. Chapter 1 of 8

**South Park Bus Stop, august 28th, 17:05**

On a bright sunny day, one of the last of the summer vacation, two eleven-year old boys were sitting by a lone bus stop sign. They had spent the last four hours reminiscing about the past, reliving their adventures in their heads. After the last tale -one involving aliens, cows, and anal probes- the boys remained silent.

"I'm going to miss this bus stop," Kyle eventually broke the silence.

"I'm not. I have to get on here every day when I start school next week," Stan said, "but I'm going to miss you and Kenny. Your plane to London leaves tomorrow morning, right?"

"Yeah," Kyle pouted. "I'm going to miss you too Stan. It sucks that you didn't get a letter from Hogwarts. It really, really sucks."

"Yeah. After you and Kenny got your letters, I checked every day to see if I had gotten one too. I prayed that one of those owls that dropped of your letter would fly by my house too, but there wasn't an owl to be seen..." Stan fell backwards into the grass and let out a bitter chuckle. "But, to be honest, deep down I knew I wouldn't receive one. After all, my sister Shelley goes to a regular school; she isn't a witch. Well, she is, but not the kind that goes to Hogwarts," both boys laughed, "I'm going to go the same school as her. I'll probably make new friends at my new school, and I'll still see you and Kenny during Christmas and summer holidays, right?"

"Dude, of course!"

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Speaking of fine, has anyone heard from Cartman?"

"No, he hasn't left his house since that day at the pond. I heard some kids say that he lost his mind, that he was muttering incoherently and cackling like a madman."

"I'm beginning to feel sorry for Hogwarts," Stan grinned.

**Stan's House, august 28th, 17:59**

"Hi honey. Hurry on in, you're just in time for dinner," Stan's mom said while she scooped another spoonful of undeterminable vegetable contents on Stan's dad's plate.

Stan put away his coat and dispiritedly slouched over to the dinner table.

"Ugh, chicken again?" He complained, "what's up with that stuff? We've been eating chicken all summer!"

He picked up a fork and prodded the small pallid chunks of meat on his plate.

"It's not chicken dear, it's owl."

"Owl?"

"Yes dear. Your uncle Jimbo keeps bringing them over. He claims it's Owl Season."

"Owl...season..."

Now, if one looked closely, one could see thousands of tiny cogs and wheels working inside Stan's brain. Turning and whirring, all of them worked closely together to reach that one final target that has been tasked to them: the affirmation that one plus one is indeed two.

Stan's face lit up with joy. Jumping up, he grabbed his coat from the rack and was already out the door before his mother had time to yell at him for leaving the table during dinner.

**Uncle Jimbo's House, august 28th, 18:33**

"Uncle Jimbo! Ned! Uncle Jimbo!" Stan lept over his uncle's fence. His uncle was in the backyard, along with Ned, turning meat on his barbecue. Meat that looked surprisingly much like chicken.

"Well if it isn't my favorite cousin. What brings you here Stan?" Uncle Jimbo asked while impaling a big slab of meat on a fork.

"Owls...magic...chicken...letter..." Stan puffed, exhausted from running all the way through town.

"You're here to get more owls for your mother? Sure, go ahead. We have plenty of 'em in the back, don't we Ned?"

"Yes. We. Have," came Ned's robotic reply. "Mmm. Owl. Season."

Stan took a moment to collect himself. "Uncle Jimbo, did those owls carry any letters?"

Uncle Jimbo scratched his chin. "Now that you mention it, the legs did always have this weird taste, like I was chewing on cardboard or something. But using owls to send letters is just plain silly. Who would do that?"

"Hippies." Ned stated.

"Do you have an intact owl left, Uncle Jimbo?"

"You betcha. Just this afternoon a whole bunch of owls came flying by. In all my years as a professional wildlife manager I've never seen a group so big. Ned and me really had to bring out the big guns on those birds," Uncle Jimbo recalled, patting a big double-barreled mortar launcher. "They're in the freezer, go ahead and grab some if you like."

Stan hurried into the kitchen and opened the door to the freezer. Inside, crammed together like a lost game of Tetris, were owls of all sizes and colours, each with a dull yet surprised look on it's dead face. Stan yanked one out and examined it's legs. There, rolled up on the owl's left leg, was a small piece of parchment bearing the logo he recognized from Kyle's letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. With shaking hands he unrolled the parchment and looked at the name scribbled at the top. It was his.


	3. Chapter 2 of 8

**Denver Airport, august 29th, 10:14**

Denver Airport, like all airports, was crowded and busy. Groups of people were scattered across the halls, chatting, laughing, crying, and welcoming each other. In one of those groups a frizzy redhaired boy was currently being hugged to death by his redhaired mother.

"Now Kyle, be a good boy. Make us proud of you honey," the boy's mother said.

"Can't...breathe..."

"Sheila, stop it. You're smothering him."

"Oh Gerald, I can't help it. My baby boy is growing up, and he's going all the way to the other side of the world!"

"Sheila, honey, let him go."

"What if something happens to him? I mean, we won't be able to be there straight away."

"Uh, Sheila, he's turning blue."

"Oh Gerald, what should we do? Oh!" Sheila Brovlovski began to sob loudly. While she began bemoaning everything in the entire world her husband managed to free his son from her clutches. Gasping for air, Kyle got up and found himself looking straight at a round, open face topped by a pluck of blond hair. After the oxygen had reached his brain again, Kyle was able to conclude that it was Butters who was gazing goofily at him.

"Huh, well, uh, hello Kyle," the blond boy greeted him.

"Butters? You came to see me off? How nice!" Kyle never knew Butters cared so much.

"Uh, well, actually, I'm going to Hogwarts too."

For a minute Kyle wondered if the oxygen supply to his brain had really restored itself.

"You are? What? Why? How? Who? Huh?"

"You see, uh, I'm a little wizard boy, just like you," Butters fiddled with his fingers.

"Mmmrphmmm!" Kenny yelled. Only now did Butters notice Kenny, whose voice came as a muffled shout from behind the large pile of suitcases he was carrying.

"Oh, uh, hi Kenny. Golly, you're going too? Well-"

"Butters, shut up for a second. You're a wizard too?"

"Uh, well, you see, uh, I'm the heir of Helga Hufflepuff, one of the founders of Hogwarts. My whole family consists of witches and wizards. We're one of the most influential families in the wizarding world actually."

"Butters, why haven't you told us this before?"

"Huh, gosh, I didn't think it was that important, really. Kenny, how come you're a wizard?"

"Mmmrhmmphm mmmphmmmrrm mmhm mmmrmmphmmm." Came the reply from over the stack of suitcases.

"Oh, well, that makes perfect sense I guess."

At that moment, Kyle spotted a familiar face across the hall. There, serene and calm, stood Eric Cartman. Their eyes met and for a moment Kyle thought the fat boy would charge across the hall and kill him, but the fat boy only smiled and waved at him. It sent a shiver down Kyle's spine. The three boys proceeded to check in their bagage and were then ushered into a waiting hall.

"Uh, Kyle, uh, you look a bit sad. How come?"

"Everthing feels wrong. Stan isn't here," Kyle sulked.

"Yes I am."

Kyle turned around and saw Stan rushing in, just as the anouncer called for the passengers of flight 123 to London to board the plane.

"Stan!"

"Kyle! I got a letter!"

"Wuh? You're a wizard? But your sister...?"

"Squib."

"Of course… But if you got a letter, than that means that- you're going to Hogwarts as well! Oh my god Stan, this is awesome! Yes!"

**Flight 123, august 29th, 13:07**

Eric Cartman, sheepishly smiling from ear to ear, made his way over to Kyle's seat.

"Hello. I am Eric Cartman. Who are you?" He extended his right hand.

Kyle blinked at him. Was he playing, or was this for real? Knowing Eric Cartman, he was probably playing. No, he was most definitely playing.

"What do you want Cartman?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that in the last month I've done a lot of soulsearching, and I found that I have treated you wrong since the first day we met. I am very sorry for that Kyle, I wish things could have gone differently. I'm sorry for all the nasty things I said to you, and for all the nasty things I did to you. I wish we could start all over and forget all the animosity between us. To do so, I am currently extending my right hand, to greet you like it is the first time we meet. What about it Kyle, shall we be friends this time around?"

Kyle gazed from Cartman's hand to his fake smile and back to his hand again. Checking the hand for electric buzzers, glue, blades and whatnot, he warily extended his own arm and shook his hand. Cartman's smile broadened to inhuman proportions.

"Thank you Kyle, my friend," Cartman said in a sugary sweet voice, before returning to his seat.

"Dude, why did you shake his hand? You know he's a rotten bastard," Stan asked from across the path.

"I know, and I don't trust him one bit. But I just didn't want to make a scene aboard a plane, okay?"

The two boys gazed at the fat boy three rows down.

"He's gone mental."

**London Hotel Lobby, august 30th, 20:13**

Stan, Kyle and Kenny were lazily hanging around in three cheap imitation leather chairs. They had spent the entire day in an arcade hall, occasionally hiding when they saw Cartman walk by. Now, all three boys were browsing through their course books, occasionaly reading out interesting bits and pieces.

"This book claims that cows are actually the most intelligent species on the planet. What is this course called? Care for Magical Creatures? What's so magical about cows?" Kyle snapped the book shut. He sat back in his chair, glancing at the titles of the books his friends were reading. Stan was browsing through 'Ancient Myths: from Atlantis to Mecha-Streisand' and Kenny was intensely studying a dusty tome called 'Hogwarts: a History'.

"Hey Kenny, can you use another book to cover up your copy of Playwiz magazine? I want to read that book." Kyle asked. Just then Butters came through to doors of the hotel lobby, pulling a cart that was stacked with soaking wet books, a broken broom and a cat carrier from which came vicious hissing sounds. His clothes were in shreds, he had nasty red blotches on his face, and he smelled like fish.

"Huh, uh, hello guys. How was your day?"

"Jesus Christ dude! What happened?" Kyle asked.

"Huh, oh that? Uh, well gosh, I was just buying my school supplies for Hogwarts. I was at Cuddlison's Cute Companions, buying a pet, when one of the cats -a big black one- decided my trousers looked just like her favorite nail-sharping chair. She jumped me, and while I was struggling to get her off of me I accidentaly wanderered into the neighbouring shop, 'Poisons and Poissons'. There I made the mistake of knocking over a tank full of Stingslinging Pufferfish, and I learned that I apparently am highly allergic to them. The good news is that the black cat didn't like all the water and she bolted, but when she did so she knocked a tank of Spotted Squids over me and my books. They squirted some, uh, gooey red ink into my eyes, and then, blinded as I was, I tripped over my newly acquired broom -breaking it- and fell into a tank of acidic eels. They hurt." Butters sniffed. "Then the owner of the store came over and hauled me out of the water, I apologized to him for breaking his tanks and I paid for the damage, and I went back to Cuddlison's Cute Companions next door to get me my own cat. I had my heart set on this big old white one, you see, but the store owner was angry because I had made his prizewinning cat upset by dousing her with water. So I had to buy the cat and promise to take good care of her. And I will, won't I, Miss Vixen?"

He was answered by a malicious hiss and a clawing paw coming out of the cat carrier.

"Butters!" Stan yelled.

"What?"

Stan sighed, knowing that whatever he would say would be lost on the blond boy.

"Never mind. So you were out all day buying that cat?"

"Well, golly, no. I bought all my school supplies in Diagon Alley, the biggest wizarding shopping center in the country. It has everthing a wizard boy can ask for, and the sights, the sounds, it's spectacular! Uh, but you've already been there, I take it."

"No, we were playing video games in the arcade all day." Stan replied.

"Uh, but how did you get all of your school supplies then?" Butters was confused.

The reply from the three boys came simultaneously.

"E-Bay."


	4. Chapter 3 of 8

**King's Cross Station, september 1st, 8:47**

"We have to do what?"

"You have to run through that wall," Cartman said with a look of utmost sincerity.

"No way dude, you're making that up," Stan said angrily.

"I'm not lying. You have to go to platform nine and three quarters, it says so right here. And to get there, you have to run through that wall," Cartman pointed to a red brick wall.

"Cartman, what Stan is trying to say is: quit being a stupid jackass and...and..." Kyle's words trailed off, when he saw a tall blackhaired boy run up to the wall, and through it. Kyle's mouth fell open and he stared the wall.

"See Kyle, my friend, I'm not lying, I would never lie to you. That would ruin our friendship..." Eric drawled. "Now take your cart, like this, and run through. Go on!"

Still in a state of shock Kyle ran through the brick wall, muttering something about hell freezing over. Hesitantly Stan followed, as did Kenny. When it was Butters' turn, Cartman held him back.

"No, Butters. We're not following them."

"Uh, gosh, why not Eric?"

"You and I are special, Butters. We both come from powerful wizarding families -yes, I do to. It's just that we Cartmans prefer to keep low profile, working behind the screens so to speak. Because we come from powerful families we are travelling with another train, a very luxurious one. It leaves from platform ten and three quarters, right over there," he gestured towards another brick wall.

"But..."

"No Butters, there's no time. The train is leaving any minute now. Is that it's whistle? Why yes, I believe it is. Hurry Butters, hurry before you miss the train!"

Slightly panicked, Butters grabbed his cart and ran towards the brick wall on platform ten.

"Huh, hold up train! I'm uh, coming!"

Bang! With a loud bang he crashed into it and he fell to the floor, scattering his barely dried books across the platform.

"Owie! Ow! It hurts, owie!" Butters cried.

"O my god Butters, you fool! Ha!" Cartman laughed, "I can't believe you fell for that. That was awesome! That's the best joke ever! Hahahahahahaha!" Tears of laughter rolled down Cartman's face as he mocked the crying blond boy. Butters got to his knees and crawled around to collect his books. In the crash Butters' cat carrier had sprung open and Miss Vixen, shaken by the whole ordeal, relieved her stress by clawing at the first thing she saw. Unfortunately, the first thing she saw was Butters.

**Hogwarts Lake, september 1st, 16:32**

"Forget it Eric, I'm not talking to you. You are a mean boy, a very mean boy!" Butters said as he stepped into a big boat with all the other first-years.

"I swear Butters, it was a misunderstanding. I-"

"Forget it Cartman. What you did was a lousy thing to do," Kyle yelled angrily.

Stan sighed and put his face in his hands. Kyle, Cartman and Butters had been bickering for the entire duration of the trainride, with Kenny occasionaly butting in too when the girls in his animated Playwiz magazine were taking a break. He had hoped that the bickering would stop when they reached the gates of Hogwarts castle, and while the fighting and namecalling had become less frequent, it was still far from over. Behind him, Stan heard two girls with brittish accents discuss the ordeal.

"Really Penelope, why are they letting those crude Americans attend our school?"

"Yes Margaret, I agree. They really are rather uncivilized, aren't they?"

"Terribly much so I'm afraid. But since there is no school of Wizardry and Witchcraft in their own country I'm afraid we must allow them access to our noble school."

"Really? They don't have a wizarding school in the United States of America? Why ever not?"

"It's quite simple really. Magic has its roots in ancient traditions and the rich culture of ages past. Those barbarous Americans don't have longstanding traditions and beliefs; they just borrowed bits and pieces from other cultures and claimed them as their own."

"But Margaret, they do have a rich cultural background. Or are you are forgetting the Native Americans?"

The other girl threw her head back and laughed.

"O my, listen to what you are saying Penelope! Would you like to go to a school where you do nothing but sit in a teepee all day while learning how to weave magical quilts?" Now both girls laughed heartily. Stan thought about interrupting them to tell them to go to hell, but he really was too tired to turn around.

The boat finally reached its destination and a big log of a man with a bushy beard jumped out.

"We're her', childr'n. Hogwarts Castle. Ain't she a beauty?" the big man bellowed cheerfully. Two by two the children got out of the boat, all of them gasping in awe at the imposing castle before them. All of them except for Kenny, who was gasping in awe at the Playwiz of the month.

**Great Hall, september 1st, 17:00**

The Great Hall was always a marvel to behold, but today it was simply spectacular. The ceiling was enchanted to show a glittering rainbow, the walls were decorated with shimmering drapes, and candles of all colours floated everywhere. In the center of all this stood an aged man, dressed in purple robes, with a long gray beard and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Goddamn hippie," Eric Cartman muttered.

The group of first-years was ushered towards the aged man, who picked up an old, wornout hat.

"Good evening, children. I hope you all had a nice journey. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the headmaster of Hogwarts. As some of you may already know, the student population is divided into four groups: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. The house to which you will belong for the remainder of your years here will be decided by my old friend here, Mr. Sorting Hat," the man stated and he held up the old hat for all to see. In the back of the group five jaws dropped in shock.

"Ooooh no."

"He's joking."

"Not again."

"But if this guy's a wizard, then maybe..."

"Don't finish that sentence Stan!"

"...Mr. Garrison..."

"No way dude, no way."

All five children shook their heads and made sounds of disbelief. Meanwhile, the purple-clad man tossed the hat into the air and to the kids' amazement the hat stayed airborne and twirled and turned around the room. From out of nowhere an orchestra began to play and the hat began to sing:

"Welcome, all, to Hogwarts,

I hope you'll have a real good time.

(The hat pointed towards the Gryffindor tables:)

"Reckless heroes everywhere,"

(The hat turned towards the Hufflepuff tables:)

"Humble folks without temptation."

Welcome, all, to Hogwarts,

Where you can leave your woes behind.

(The hat turned towards the Ravenclaw tables:)

"Many students, oh so bright,"

(The hat spinned towards the Slytherin tables:)

"People shouting: "Filthy mudblood!"

Welcome, all, to Hogwarts,

The place to educate your mind.

Filch likes girls with-"

"Mr. Sorting Hat, that is enough!" the man in purple yelled over a roar of laughter. All eyes in the hall were now fixated at the ugly man in the back that went by the name of Argus Filch, whose cheeks had turned a deep shade of red.

"Right. Thank you, Mr. Sorting Hat. And now, let the sorting begin!"

One by one the first-years were called forward to be sorted. Kyle was called after 'Adams, Dougie' and was sorted into Ravenclaw straight away. A couple of students later it was the turn of 'Cartman, Eric'. Cartman barely took a step towards the hat, when the latter screamed "Slytherin!" Many an eyebrow was raised at this quick sorting, and a wave of whispering washed through the hall. "Silence!" an old witch wearing a green pointy hat shrieked. The students soon stopped their whispering, but at the head table Albus Dumbledore continued his whispering into the ear of a sourlooking skinny man. The students ignored the display at the table and watched the hat continue with the sorting. A couple of students later it was Stan's turn and he, like Kyle, was sorted into Ravenclaw. Kenny was quickly sorted into Gryffindor, and Butters into Hufflepuff. The sorting ended with 'Zim, Marvin', and with a flick of the headmaster's wrist the table became filled with delicious food of all kinds: baked potatoes with grilled cheese, roasted pig with orange slices, and even -to Cartman's great joy- a whole Chucky Cheese buffet. The boys ate and ate, and Cartman ate even more, and after dinner they all retreated to their houses for the remainder of the night. Too tired from the day's events, the boys headed straight for the bedrooms. Cartman hung a big poster over his bed and looked up at the person depicted on it admiringly. Before he went to sleep he said his prayers to it, wished it goodnight, and whispered: "Don't worry my Dark Lord, I'll find a way to resurrect you."


	5. Chapter 4 of 8

**Common Study Hall, september 6th, 19:42**

The first couple of days buzzed with excitement. No, really. The front pages of the boys' auto-writing calendars hummed and chirped, waving up and down exitedly. It freaked Butters out the first time he saw it. Unfortunately, the little start that accompagnied Butters' freak-out caused Miss Vixen to freak-out...

Five healing spells later Butters was bent over his homework, trying to memorize the details of the famous Underwear Gnome Riots of '42. A couple of seats over, Stan was frantically waving his wand around.

"Aw, come on. Why won't it produce those stupid flowers?" he complained.

"That's because you're doing it wrong, you should flick, then swish. Not the other way around," Kyle explained, "Here, let me demonstrate it: _Dorandomstufficus_!"

A big, colourful bouquet of tulips popped out of the tip of Kyle's wand.

"Great. That's just…great," Stan sighed.

"What's wrong dude?"

"I don't know, I guess I just pictured that being a wizard would be…well, not this. I mean, look at us. We're wearing dresses-"

"They're called robes," Kyle interrupted.

"It's still pantless, so it's the same. Anyway, we're wearing dresses, we're waving around chopsticks to produce flowers and sparkles, and yesterday in Care for Magical Creatures we spent an hour just sitting around petting some fluffy brown purring things. I don't know, I guess I expected being a wizard to be less…gay."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Kyle answered, "I thought it'd be more exciting too - though those fluffballs did get pretty dangerous when Kenny fed them his popcorn. Damn, those things reproduce fast!" He remembered all too well; he thought he was going to suffocate under the weight of the brown fluffballs, but luckily the big giant was able to chase them away. They made funny little squeeking sounds when his big giant hammer landed on their fluffy little bodies. Kyle snapped out of it and turned his attention back to his friend.

"Hey, cheer up. It'll get better. You can't expect us to be able to do all the exciting stuff straight away; we have to practice on the gay stuff first."

"Dude, that sounds so very, very wrong."

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Kyle turned the page of his book – _Famous Inferis of Hollywood_ – and continued with his homework.

"Yeah, I guess so," Stan felt a little bit better. "I wonder if Cartman feels the same way."

**Hogwarts Library, Restricted Section, september 6th, 19:44**

Eric Cartman cackled with excitement as he read the words on the page for the umpteenth time. It had taken him a while to get his hands on this book; didn't have it in stock anymore, but luckily the school library had a copy. Getting into the restricted section had been easy – all he had to do was compliment one of the teachers on her gaudy spectacles, make a couple of flattering comments about her shiny orbs, and he was in. He ripped the page from the book, careful not to wake the snarling, wolverinelike book that sat next to it on the shelf – _A Treatise on Periods of the Feminine Kinde_. Cartman put the torn page in his pocket and left the library, whistling the Imperial March Theme on his way out.

**Common Study Hall, september 6th, 19:4****4**

"Cartman? I don't even want to think about the possibility of him being able to do powerful magic," said Stan, shivering at the thought. He gulped down a handful of the licorice minicars he had bought earlier that day, then handed the bag over to Kyle.

"Thanks," Kyle watched as two licorice cars fled the bag and raced along the edges of the table. "Where did you get these?"

"Bought them yesterday from some Hufflepuff kid that had set up a shop just outside the Muggle Studies classroom. He said it was for a project on Muggle economy and the trading market. They're real cheap too; this bag only cost me fifteen housepoints."

"Neat, that's only half the price of what the Slytherin kids are asking per bag," Kyle said as he watched Kenny pass by their table. He was holding a big blue bottle and was being followed by a flock of gingerhaired Gryffindors who all sported ear-to-ear grins on their freckled faces.

"Hey Stan, where's Kenny going?" asked Kyle.

"Oh, I heard some kids saying that they challenged him to give a bottle of shampoo to one of the teachers."

"Really? Which one?"

**Snape's Dungeon, september 6th, 19:52**

"GET OUT! GET OUT YOU &!#$$$$#& FILTHY $!#& &&#$#&! I OUGHT TO &#&#!!$$$!#! &$!& YOUR &&!$$$!! TO YOUR &$$#!!(! AND &$!!#)(&&!& THEM WITH &&&$&! THEN, I'LL &&$$!$#$#! YOUR &&()&!$$ AND &$$$#!(#$ UP YOUR $$#!(()$#'S $!$&&&! WHILE I &$#!# ()#$!#&# INTO YOUR $ &()#& AND &#$$$ #$!(# DOWN YOUR &&&$$ $$$&!$! AND THEN, I'LL $#$#$# AND $$#&$ INTO YOUR $#$$# $$$&$ FOLLOWED BY MY $$#$ YOUR $&$& &#&$ UP YOUR &$&$ AND &$ YOUR &$&& JUST LIKE TRUE ARISTOCRATS! _SHUTUPPICUS!_"


	6. Chapter 5 of 8

**Ravenclaw Common Room, october 15th, 20:30**

On a dreary october evening, a dozen or so kids sat around a humming crystal orb. Curious, Stan looked to see what was so special about it. At first all he saw was a incoherent arrangement of colours, but as he looked longer he saw the colours begin to take shape and identity. The humming became clearer and he soon realized that some sort of show starring two wizards was being broadcast through the orb. Having nothing else to do, Stan sat down with the others and watched.

"Say Terrentius, my wand is acting funny. Can you inspect it for me please?"

"Why of course Phillipus. Let me put my face to it and inspect it from up close."

"_Fartio_!"

"Ahahahahaha! Hahaha!"

Both wizards rolled on the floor with laughter, as did all the other Ravenclaw kids. Unfortunately Stan did not get much time to enjoy this newly discovered brilliant show, because Kyle soon dragged him to a quiet corner so they could work on their Transfiguration assignment.

"You know what's weird," Stan said as bright green spots appeared on the brick in front of him, "Cartman hasn't done anything yet. I mean, he quickly fell back into being the same old jerk he always was, but that's all. He's been paying attention in class, he's polite to all the teachers, he's acting like a model student. I don't get it. He should be completely pissed that we're all wizards too, but he's been acting…normal. I expected something different from him…"

"Like what dude?" Kyle asked as he jumped after his brick, which was trying to fly away using the little white wings it had gotten moments earlier.

"I don't know. But it's Cartman, for crying out loud! At the very least he should be plotting to blow you up, if not the entire Ravenclaw tower. Shouldn't we warn the headmaster, or professor Flitwick? This entire school could be in danger."

"I already warned the headmaster..." Kyle began, but he didn't finish the sentence.

"And?" Stan asked impatiently.

"I'm not sure. I vaguely remember...well, nothing really. All I can remember from the conversation is candy."

"Candy? You mean like magical candy?"

"No, just regular candy."

"So you went to warn the headmaster about a possible danger to the students, and the conversation turned to candy? Dude, what was so important about candy that it was the headmaster's main priority?"

"M&M's. And he was right; the red ones really are the best."

**Snape's Dungeon, november 6th, 9:03**

"Pay attention now class, because the potion we are brewing today is-"

"Cartman, stop being such an asshole and give me my book back!"

"I didn't take it you whiney jewish pussy. You're always trying to-"

"Don't go there fatass!"

"Today's potion is a very complex-" Snape tried again.

"I'll go wherever I goddamn please! And right now, I want to go to your pussy jewish behaviour."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"It makes more sense than you, Kyle."

"That doesn't make sense either!"

Snape rubbed the bridge of his hooked nose. He felt a headache coming up. Again. He didn't quite understand when or how it had happened, but somewhere along the line he had lost control over this class. He had used up most of his arsenal of detentions, threats, taking points, angry glares, and insults, but nothing seemed to work with this class. Being a former Death Eater and a double spy, it took a lot for Severus Snape to become afraid, but now he was. He was losing his touch. If word of his inability to control a class of first-years spread to the other years they would surely rebel too. Visions of being the laughing stock of the school ("again," a little voice in his head reminded him) haunted the poor professor's mind. Visions of being disrespected, visions of being mocked, visions of -no! No more. Snape knew the time had come for drastic measures. He reached down to the lower drawer of his desk, wherein his means to reacclaim his reign of terror lay. With a feeling of nostalgia he thought back to when he had first heard of the technique he was about to use. The technique was so efficient that it was used by muggles and wizards alike, always with good results. He opened the drawer and retrieved a silverspecked bunny from it. Holding it up for all to see, he pressed the tip of his wand to the bunny's temple and yelled: "Shut up or the bunny gets it!"

All the bickering and fighting in the class ceased immediately, and the children stared at their teacher wide-eyed. The blackrobed professor studied the faces of the children. In them, he saw fear, shock, disgust, and anger. Most importantly, they all sat quietly in their seats and obeyed his orders to the letter. Good. They feared him again. Snape smiled briefly at the bunny and put it back in the bottom drawer. Maybe this day was still salvageable, even. As he sat down again, Snape was surprised to note that he was actually looking forward to that evening. After all, how could an evening be better spent than with a glass of wine in one hand, a copy of the latest issue of Journal of Wicked Draughts in the other, and his favorite bunny peacefully dozing off on his lap?

**Slytherin Common Room, november 6th, 12:05**

Eric Cartman could barely hide his excitement. It would only be a matter of hours now, only hours before he would resurrect the Dark Lord.

"Voldemort…" the name rolled of his tongue. It tasted awesome, like caramel jawbreakers or pita-sandwiches with extra cheese. It tasted like a just world, like a world without Jews. And that was what this was all about, wasn't it? Cartman remembered the afternoon at the pond all too well. He finally had tangible proof that he was better than Kyle, finally able to rub to cold facts in Kyle's face, and than that stupid Jew had to ruin it all be being a wizard too. But Eric Cartman wasn't a quitter, no, far from it. He wasn't going to get even with Kyle, he was going to get better than Kyle. Infinitely better in a definite, undeniable way. He had spent all summer in his room, reading, thinking of a way to beat Kyle once and for all. It was on a rainy august evening when he had first read about Voldemort, one of the greatest wizards of all time. It was on that evening that Eric had outlined his plan: he would resurrect Voldemort and forge an alliance with him. Together they would destroy the entire Jew Race. Then, World Domination and Immortality awaited, but for now Eric was content to take it one step at a time.

Eric went to his bedroom and checked his list of items needed for the resurrection one last time. Wand? Check. Jumper Cables? Check. Safe Location? Check –he was happy to have discovered that odd room that would turn itself into whatever Cartman needed at the moment. Body? No, he didn't have Voldemort's body… but the lifesized poster Cartman had of him would be an acceptable surrogate. Only one item remained unchecked on Cartman's list, but he already had a target in mind for that. He grabbed a pencil and checked the last item on his list: Find a Victim to Perform the Fourth Unforgivable on.


	7. Chapter 6 of 8

**Snape's Dungeon, november 6th, 15:28**

"Professor Snape? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Professor Snape looked up from his papers. Recognizing the voice as belonging to one of the whiney first-years, he felt his headache getting ready for the second round of today.

"Mr. Marsh. I presume that whatever your futile question is, it has something to do with potions?"

Stan stepped into the dark dungeon and approached the desk, eyeing the bottom drawer carefully.

"No sir. There's just some stuff that's bothering me, mostly my friends fighting all the time, and I don't know what to do anymore. I need someone to talk to."

Snape's sallow face drew into a look of bewilderment, that was quickly replaced by a look of even greater bewilderment when he realized what the boy exactly wanted from him.

"You want to talk to me," he managed to gasp, "about personal problems and feelings."

Stan nodded.

"Why? Why on this wretched intoxicated earth do you want to talk to me about your pathetic excuse for a personal problem? Please explain, Mr. Marsh, because I feel my sanity slowly losing the battle against the stupidity of your request."

Not seeming to be affected by the professor's bewilderment, Stan began to explain: "Well, you see, normally when I have a problem I go to Kyle or Kenny. But Kyle is part of the problem this time, so I can't talk to him. And Kenny is far too busy becoming popular with his fellow Gryffindors, so he's out of the question too. Were I still in South Park my alternate option would be to go to a group of goth kids I occasionally hung out with. But they're not here, so I went looking for other goths to hang out with; which brings me too you."

Snape blinked. Twice. Three times.

"I'm a what?"

"A goth. You know: pale skin, dressing in black, in a permanent state of depression, acting all moody and dark, insulting stupid conformist people... Hey, do you have any piercings or cool tattoos?"

Snape's eyes grew wide at those last words.

"Get out Mr. Marsh."

"But-"

"I said get out!" Snape yelled as he jumped up, knocking over his chair. Ugly red blotches appeared in his neck and his nails left scratches on the edge of the table. Stan bolted from the class, not sure about where exactly the conversation had turned ugly, but not feeling brave enough to ask his fuming professor either. Snape slammed the door of the classroom shut and slumped down into the nearest chair he could find. His headache had won by knock-out. He gulped down a potion to counter the effects, but as a matter of precaution he scratched the wine off his list for the evening. "At least I still have my journal and my bunny," he sighed. Annoyed, he pulled over a stack of papers to mark. Not long thereafter, the Headmaster would visit him to inquire how it was possible that the entire sixth year class had managed to receive a 'Troll' on their potion essays.

**Hogwarts Corridor, november 6th, 15:33**

"Come on Butters, it's okay," Cartman whined.

"Uh, I don't think it's such a good idea, Eric. I, I'm not allowed in there." Butters stuttered.

"Butters, of course you're allowed. I'm inviting you… Think of it; you will be the first Hufflepuff to set foot on Slytherin territory. You'll instantly be a legend among your kind. Everyone will want to know how we live, what the common room looks like, what we do in our free time... And you'll be able to tell them everything they want to know. You'll be the most popular boy in Hufflepuff, Butters. Please, let me show you around Slytherin House to make up for the mean things I did to you," Cartman's words were measured and steady, "why, I'll even show you a special project I'm working on. No, not homework, something more exciting. Much, much more exciting..."

"Huh, gosh Eric," Butters stammered. He was torn between listening to his past experiences with Cartman on one side and his curiosity and need to be accepted on the other side.

"I have 'Super Hello Kitty Island Adventure II Turbo'. You can play it." And like that, Cartman tipped the scale in his benefit.

"Huh, well...okidoki, let's go then!" Butters jumped up followed Cartman up the stairs.

"Golly, I thought the Slytherin common room was in the dungeons. Why are we going up?"

"The common room is indeed in the dungeons, but the, uh, entrance is upstairs. Come on now Butters, follow me."

As the two boys climbed the stairs a passing ghost raised an eyebrow at the odd pair: a blond boy cheerfully singing, and a fat boy practicing his menacingly evil cackle.

**Snape's Dungeon, november 6th, 16:05**

"Professor Snape, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Professor Snape's grip on the flask of alien goo he was holding became so tight that he could feel the glass crack under his skin. Warily he cast a glance at the door, and was mildly relieved to see Ravenclaw, First Year, Brovlovski, Kyle, standing there. Mr. Brovlovski performed quite well in his potions class; there was a good possibility he just had some questions about the Negromorph potion they had made in class earlier that day. But, after the Marsh incident, he thought it wise to be ready for anything.

"Mr. Brovlovski, what is it?"

"Sir, I need some advice on how to deal with this jackass who keeps harassing me."

"And why do you feel the need to talk to me about this, instead of someone else -someone like, say, your head of house, professor Flitwick?" Snape asked against better judgement.

"Well, normally I would talk to my friends Stan and Kyle, but-"

"You're not going to call me a goth, are you?" Snape's wand-hand began to itch. Darn headmaster and his newly imposed not-hexing-the-students rule. (Honestly, he hadn't known that the spell he'd used to seal the Gryffindor kid's mouth shut would be permanent. Why wouldn't Albus believe him?)

"A goth? No! Goths are stupid little wangsters. What I meant to say was that back in South Park I could always count on Chef, the cafeteria cook, for advice."

Snape had the weirdest sense of deja vu.

"Here at Hogwarts we don't have a cafeteria," Kyle began to explain, "well, we have the house elves who do the cooking, but there's no way I'm going to ask advice from someone who's dressed in a towel. So, I figured I'd ask your advice, since your class is basically cooking lessons."

Snape didn't know whether to continue listening or to break Dumbledore's new no-hexing law. In the end, curiosity won out.

"Excuse me?"

"Cooking. You know, throwing a bunch of ingredients together and stirring them around for a while. That's basically all we do in this class, so it's just like cooking."

Snape couldn't remember the last time he felt this horrible. He was angry at the boy -one of his best students no less- for insulting him so gravely, but he mostly felt like his soul itself had just been bitchslapped, trampled by a pack of hippogriffs, and then bitchslapped some more. Suddenly feeling drained and purportless, he got up and slogged towards the door.

"Find someone else to bug, Mr. Brovlovski. I'm tired. Leave me alone." And with that, the worn professor left, seeking out the comfort of his private chambers. Once there, he threw himself on the sofa and let a thick curtain of black hair fall over his face. Half an hour later he got up, having gathered enough strength again, and picked up his copy of Journal of Wicked Draughts. As he browsed through it, the feeling that his noble art of potion making was indeed no more than cooking snuck up on him, and disillusioned he threw the journal across the room. Hugging his knees to his chest he rolled onto his side and sent a mental message to the creature residing in the bottom drawer of his desk: "Looks like it's just you and me tonight, bunny."


	8. Chapter 7 of 8

**Hogwarts Hospital Wing, november 6th, 17:51**

In the hospital wing -one of Hogwart's most active floors- four grown-ups and three children were standing around a bed on which a blond-haired boy lay. The children - Stan, Kyle and Kenny, were too shocked to talk. They had just found their friend Butters in one of the corridors, screaming in pain and writhing in agony.

"Ow! Owie! The pain! Owie!" Butters yelled, twisting and turning on the creaking bed.

"What's wrong with him, headmaster? In all my years as a healer I've never seen anything like this." Madam Pomfrey had a look of desperation in her eyes as she unsuccesfully tried to counter the symptoms.

"I'm afraid his condition is quite severe, Poppy. I'm afraid Mr. Scotch has been afflicted with the fourth Unforgivable," the Headmaster said with a concerned tone.

"The fourth? But there only are three Unforgivables," professor McGonagall claimed.

"There are three wellknown Unforgivables, yes. But there is a fourth one, one so vile and evil it is only whispered about in the darkest of tomes. The fourth Unforgivable, better known as the Curse ...of Roshambo."

Professor McGonagall nearly fainted.

"The Curse of Roshambo is quite vile indeed. It's a magical affliction that makes you feel as if you were being kicked in the nuts repeatedly," professor Snape explained, as he turned to face the headmaster.

"I know of a potion that will render the curse harmless. Unfortunately, the ingredients for said potion are quite rare: unicorn's horn, heart of a silverspecked bunny, four-leaf clover, and brain of Canadian... It will take some time to assemble these ingredients. I will start right away." The hooknosed man turned around with an elegant swish of his cloak and marched out the door, a gloomy expression etching itself onto his face. The headmaster turned towards Stan, Kyle and Kenny. With two loud cracking sounds he bent through his knees to eye them at their level.

"Boys, as you can see this is quite a sticky situation. Normally I would never deign to ask a child to put his life on the line," the headmaster chose to ignore Madames Pomfrey and McGonagall's synchronous coughing, "but this situation calls for all the aid we can get. The paintings tell me that this is work of one of your fellow students, Mr. Cartman. They also say that he did it with the intent of resurrection Voldemort, a once very powerful dark wizard. We cannot allow Mr. Cartman to resurrect him; it would result in a catastrophe greater than Celine Dion. Now, you found Butters right outside the Room of Requirement and according to the paintings that is where Mr. Cartman is. What I am asking of you is to follow him into the Room of Requirement and stop him, one way or another."

"Aren't you coming along, headmaster?" Stan asked.

Albus Dumbledore shamefully lower his head.

"For reasons unknown, Cartman has decorated the Room as an ice-cream parlor. Unfortunately, long ago a government official cast a spell that permanently banned me from entering all ice-cream parlors," he mumbled, "now boys, will you go?"

The boys nodded in agreement.

"Excellent. Since there is no time to waste, I have a portkey for you, to use to get straight to the Room of Requirement. Hurry boys!" The three boys grabbed the rubber chicken that was held out before them, and each felt a weird tug at the pit of his stomach. Soon thereafter the boys disappeared from the hospital room, leaving behind a headmaster who was caught on a cloud of woeful reminiscence.

**Room of Requirement, november 6th, 17:59**

Kenny, Kyle and Stan materialized with a small pang and immediately toppled over, disoriented from the trip.

"Woah! That was some trip!" Kyle gasped.

"Mmhrm mmph mrmhmph," Kenny claimed through the seal covering his mouth.

"Really? Is that legal?" Stan inquired, "oh well, let's just look around and see if there's anything suspicious.

The boys took in their surroundings. The room was a mess; cardboard cups and spoons littered the floor and boxes were piled ceiling-high. Bright sunlight found its way through the cracks in the window shutters, illuminating a broad counter with row after row of ice-cream of all possible flavors. In the back, in front of a lifesize poster of Lord Voldemort, stood Eric Cartman, chanting and gurgling in a strange demonic tongue.

"Cartman!" Kyle yelled.

The fat boy turned around, eyes glittering with untamed evilness. "Oh, hello Kyle. You're just in time. The Dark Lord will come soon, and crush his enemies, starting with you."

"Enemies?" Kyle was confused, "I never did anything to Voldemort. I'm not his enemy."

"That's where you're wrong, Kyle. You're jewish. Everyone is your enemy."

Stan took a step forward and rolled his eyes. "Okay Cartman, let it go, playtime's over. You know this is going to end up with us winning and you losing, it always does. I'll hand it to you, it sure was smart to turn this place into an ice-cream parlor, since Dumbledore can't enter them, but-"

"He can't?" Cartman interrupted, "Oh wow, that must totally suck." He actually felt a bout of sympathy for the old man. Not being able to enter ice-cream parlors was just…cruel. He shivered.

Stan blinked. "Wait, what? You didn't know he couldn't enter ice-cream parlors? Then why the hell did you change this place into one?"

Cartman shrugged. "I was in the mood for ice-cream. But stop trying to slow me down! _Momentus Dramaticus_!"

Cartman pointed his wand at the poster; a stream of red sparks flew from the tip, sizzling and producing big clouds of smoke. The cloud filled the entire room, causing all four kids to break into coughs.

"_Airconditionicus_!" Kyle's wand turned into a fan, which he used to disperse the smoke. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted the silhoutte of an adult, standing imposingly in front of the place where the poster used to hang.

"Oh no," he muttered.

"Oh yes!" Cartman squeed.

Stan let out a curse as he spotted the figure. Something was odd though, but what? He stared at the adult figure, and as the last remnants of the cloud evaporated he knew what was off: the adult was flat. He had height, and he had width, but he lacked depth. He was as two-dimensional as his poster had been. Cartman shifted uneasily. He knew he should have tracked down his real body instead of resorting to that stupid poster. He watched as the paper cut-out of Lord Voldemort swayed slightly, like a leaf on the wind. Then, the paperdoll took a step forward and looked around.

"Who summoned me?" he asked in a highpitched voice.

Stan, Kyle and Kenny laughed. "Looks like your masterplan doesn't have much depth to it, Cartman."

Cartman glared at the trio and took a step forward. "It was I, my Lord. I summoned you. Together we-"

"Silence!" Paper Voldemort shrieked. "Together? Don't make me laugh. So you ressurected me, big deal. I could have orchestrated that myself. What did you expect? A cookie and a hug? I, and I alone shall rule the world. But, since you served me well you may be my righthand man -but nothing more!"

Cartman bit his lip. "Will you still destroy all the jews, my Lord?" he asked.

Paper Voldemort waved him off. "Fine, whatever."

"Okay then, I accept the position of your righthand man," Cartman said, and then added in a whisper: "for now."

"Careful you don't get any papercuts," Kyle teased.

"Mhrmhrm mph mhrmph," Kenny added.

"Enough! It's time to finish this foolishness!" Voldemort's paper hand snaked firmly around his paper wand, which he then turned to point at the center of Kenny's chest.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"


	9. Chapter 8 of 8

**Hospital Wing, november 6th, 18:****07**

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was still standing in the hospital wing, gazing out at nothing in particular. He remembered, ah yes, he remembered... The colours, the smells, the cold feeling on his tongue, the creamy texture, the slow melting...

Minerva McGonagall affectionately put a hand on his shoulder.

"Poor thing," she said, "If you want, the house elves are holding a pitcher of chocolate ice-cream for me in the kitchen. Do you-" Before Minerva could finish her sentence the aged headmaster was already sprinting through the halls, shouting screams of merry joy all the way to the kitchen.

**Room of Requirement, november 6th, 18:****07**

"_Avada Kedavra_!" A flat voice boomed.

A bolt of green energy hit Kenny squarely in the chest. Kenny's eyes widened, and he fell down dead.

"Oh my god, he killed Kenny!" Stan said, shocked.

"You bastard!" Kyle raised his fist as he yelled at paper Voldemort.

Paper Voldemort stopped dead in his tracks. Bastard? Him? A baffled look appeared on his face, as he recalled his own dubious ancestry. He looked at the little jewish boy who had dared to call him that. And then he began to cackle; cackle like only true madmen could.

"My Lord, it's best to kill them now, before their reinforcements arive," Cartman tried, "My lord...?" It was to no avail. Paper Voldemort was rolling on the floor now, half laughing, half crying. Dog-ears were beginning to develop at his fingertips.

"Yesss, yesss, I sssee know. Muahahahaha! Mummy, isss that you? My, what a pretty dressss," he ranted.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a concerned look, while Cartman was just screaming "no" over and over.

"Dude? What's wrong with that guy?" Stan whispered.

"I think he's suffering from TDV," Kyle stated as he watched paper Voldemort play with the spillings of ice-cream on the floor.

"What's that? Is it bad?" Stan asked.

"Very much so. As an evil overlord bent on world domination he belongs to the high risk group for Two-Dimensional Villainism, or TDV in short. Always being depicted as a megalomaniacal sociopath who would sell his own grandmother into slavery tends to have severe side-effects on one's mental health. A villain is most prone to an episode of TDV when he is placed in a highly emotional situation, such as being reminded of one's childhood or flaws," Kyle gestured towards the raving lunatic who was now making paper doll chains from his own legs.

"Symptoms include hysterical laughter, the inability to make good decisions, incoherent gibbering, and illogical behaviour like a random change of heart," Kyle finished, just as paper Voldemort got up.

"Yesss...I sssee now. I sssee the error of my waysss... Repent! Repent I ssshall! Yesss...I ssshall ssspend the ressst of my life making everyone happy, to make up for my crimesss..." Giggling he crawled over the counter where he picked up an ice-cream scooper and held it up with both hands. "I ssshall work here for eternity, and hand out free ice-cream to everyone!"

Stan instinctively backed away slowly.

"Looks like he has a pretty severe condition of that TDV-stuff," he said. Kyle nodded.

"Worst case I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of cases."

"Boy, Cartman must feel really screwed right now."

"Good. He deserves it. Do you think he'll ever contract TDV?" Kyle asked half-hopingly.

"Who, Cartman? Nah. He's way too fat to contract anything that involves the word 'two-dimensional'."

They both watched for a while as Cartman got down on his knees and begged paper Voldemort to restart his quest for mass genocide, while the latter cheerfully scooped delicious ice-cream into wafle cones.

"Hey Kyle, how come you know all that stuff about Two-Dimensional Villainism?"

"Easy. My aunt writes fantasy novels."

**Great Hall, november 7th, 12:25**

"I'm sure glad that whole Voldemort ordeal is over. That sure was a sticky situation," Stan said as he scooped another spoonful of strawberry icecream onto his plate.

"Uh-huh. Pass over the pistachio please," Kyle said, "What happened to Cartman, by the way? I don't see his fat ass anywhere at the table, and he never misses a meal."

"The Wizengamot asked for his wand. Apparently, he threw it at them, told them to go screw themselves and stormed off, screaming that he was going home."

"He's going to be hell incarnate when we go home for the christmas holidays." Kyle was worried.

"That's for sure. But let's not think about that now. Let's just enjoy our meal."

Both boys peacefully ate their icecream sandwiches as they reminisced about yesterday's events. Between paper Voldemort's repentance and Kenny's death another serious change had occurred. The house elves had put up the new breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus in the Great Hall and the boys were surprised to note that in every single meal they could find ice-cream as an ingredient. Dumbledore's ban from ice-cream parlors was still in effect but paper Voldemort was more than happy to ship mass quantities of the delicious cold substance down to the Kitchens, so the headmaster had decided to change the menus instantly so that everyone could enjoy the fruits of the previous day's hard work.

"Do you want to see another sticky situation?" Kyle grinned and nodded over to the head table. Stan followed his gaze and saw the old wise headmaster, whose entire beard was covered in chocolate ice-cream. Slouched in his chair and looking very much like an overdosed junkie, headmaster Dumbledore was totally oblivious to professor Flitwick's feeble attempts to charm away the mess. Nearby, professors McGonagall and Snape were busily whispering and Stan could only assume that they were plotting to overthrow the old coot and lock him away in a home for the elderly. Looking at the glazed look and the sheepish grin on the headmaster's face, Stan felt he couldn't really blame them.

Near the end of the meal, Kyle interrupted Stan's quiet ruminations.

"You know, I've learned something today."

"What? That good always triumphs over evil? That even the worst of villainkind can still have a shred of decency left in them?"

"No. What I've learned today is that Eric Cartman is a sick, twisted psychopath who should be locked away."

"Touché, dude. Touché."

THE END


End file.
